Some Of My Life, and the Street Food Fest Too, Genova, 2016

It's been busy, and beautiful, and challenging ... and sometimes almost more than I think I can stand. 

Sometimes I've panicked a little about my future, thinking ... 'now what!!?  How will I get through this moment?'  And, just occasionally, there have been tears. 

But mostly it's all good here in Genova, Italy.  I'm finding my way, meeting truly superb people, making good friends, and having excellent adventures.  There are still things I have to sort out and organise but one thing at a time.

This weekend has been the weekend of the Street Food Fest and I wandered along with my camera, quietly slipping through the event until being outed by Roberto Panizza, as a pesto world championship competitor from New Zealand.  At which point, I was called up to the pesto demonstration, interviewed by Hira, and yes ... invited back up at the end to have that first taste of the pesto just made.

And so this photographer was there on the wrong side of the camera, torn between amusement and mortification...

Hira, the journalist who interviewed me, invited me back to work with her last night.  So I wandered along and took even more photographs of the food people pedaling their delicious foods.  It was fun.  You can see it ...  I adore the Genovese, and I guess that they know it.  I was photo-bombed, while thinking myself kind of invisible photographing the food he was making ...

I have new sandals.  It's been 30 celsius most days since moving here, and it's fine but I was walking a lot and had a massive blister, or two, on the soles of my feet.  I finally accepted that I needed good walking sandals and last night I found them.  I can go back to my hill-walking now.

I move into the city on Tuesday.  I've been out in the 'burbs, in Quarto, cat-sitting but it's been a really nice way to arrive.  And I've come to love Bus 17, my bus into the city, as I keep meeting marvelous people on the journey in.

There was the lovely woman who moved here, back when she was 9 years old ... she came from NYC in 1947, and never left.  And the woman, with her dog.  She has invited me to her Italian/English classes during the week.

Learning Italian, finally, has become my next big thing.  Until then, I have the sweetest friends who speak English, or who are English-speaking.  Paula and Paolo, and sweet baby Marc have become people I adore spending time with.

Silvia, my Genovese translator friend, makes me laugh like no other.  Her humour is dry, and quite dangerous sometimes:-)   Beautiful Alessandra, her partner Davide, Isabella, and Paola, picked me up and took me to the free Jack Savoretti concert in Portofino last week.  That was surreal ... I've loved his music since first hearing his song, 'Home'.  The concert was superb, he gifted us so many songs.  And then walking back to the car, along the Ligurian coast after midnight, was quite the magical thing.  It reminded me so much of when I lived at Broad Bay in Dunedin.

Outi, my Finnish friend living at Nervi, has become a writing partner and we spend a day together, as often as is possible, writing.   And Millica, the lovely Californian, I'm just getting to know.  She loaded me up with books before heading away on her summer holiday.  Invited me out for a delicious lunch, patiently guided me when I got lost on the way there, and simply delights me with her take on the world.

Douce, that cafe in Piazza Matteotti, saves me some days ... it's that place where I go sit in the sun and watch the world pass by, drinking just one glass of cold white Ligurian wine.  I'm quite happy alone but sometimes I miss having the swirl of a family around me, or that special bloke to share my days with.  Then again, I've always wandered alone so nothing is really new there - as it's simpler to go to that place where I lose my self and find photographs if I'm alone.

And so I've had some magical days out in the city, finding light like this ...

Coco the cat has been good company although, she gets cross if I work here too long.  The first warning I get is her raspy little cat tongue licking my bare leg.  If I'm concentrating too hard and miss that, the next thing I know is her little cat teeth are nipping me.

Words most often heard, via my open balcony doors ... 'Coco!  Don't bite me!'  And then laughter because what can you do with a cuddly stroppy little bundle of cat that has decided she has the right to punish you for lack of attention ...

And so it goes ... I'm happy, more often than I'm sad.  I know good people and, slowly but surely, life is coming together here in Liguria. 

Ciao for now.

Cutting a Deal with Myself ...

The deal is ... if I work hard all day, then I can go wandering in Genova, about when the light gets interesting in the late afternoon.

I was out there today and it was glorious.  I started in the full blue of late afternoon and sat on the floating pontoon for a while.  Just enjoying the sun.

And I found this image on the way back through the port. 

My fascination with reflections started way back when I was a small child in New Zealand.  We used to head south, along State Highway 1 ... visiting Nana down in Invercargill.  We'd pass by the swamp area in Henley and, oftentimes, the world reflected was a perfect copy of what was above.

It didn't take much for the small child I was, with the massive imagination I still have, to believe it was simply another world.  An upside-down world. 

We hunt for reflections here ... my camera and I.  And Genova is perfect after rain.   The puddles here, they contain stunning visions.

And the fountain ... in Piazza De Ferrari has long been a source of inspiration.  A place to play.

Mmm, so that's what I did this evening.  I went out wandering, in this beautiful city I love so much.  Tonight, I have Amos Lee playing, the balcony doors are still open ... it's 21.18 and it's warm.

It's been a good day.

The Walking Cure ...

I have a to-do list that is a million miles long and so it is difficult to feel like I am getting anywhere with it ... but I think I am.

And so perhaps it was no surprise that, yesterday, I had to time myself out of life for a while.  It's intense out here.  Along with the joy, there's always going to be the small crashes ... big ones too.  Those moments when life simply overwhelms me.

I took the walking cure, making my way down to my favourite church here in Genova ... Chiesa di Santa Maria Maddalena.  Just for a while, I love the peace I find there.  And the beauty.

At some point I saw the light ... mmmhmm, and pointed my camera in the direction of it.  The photograph above is the result.  No editing.

I was still a little 'off' when I woke up this morning and so we went wandering again, my camera and I. 

I decided to take the funicular, up to Righi, after wandering the city a while.  I had a small glass of white wine when I arrived at the top, and studied my book on Genova, trying not to smell the divine lunches being served up around me.

And then, following an impulse, I chose to walk back down that rather steep hill to the city, on this very hot day, without a map ... as you do.  I was only lost for a while. I arrived at Castelletto and had no idea where I was. 

There are always kind people here in the city.  They discussed my problem and they showed me the bus stop ... I did the last of the downhill courtesy of AMT, the bus company here. 

Tonight's meal was simple.  Fresh tomatoes and garlic, from the tiny fruit and vegetable shop down on the main road, and pasta from a box of goodies I was gifted.  It was perfect.  No more mass-produced pasta sauces for me.  I'm a convert.  It seems anyone can whip up a simple little pasta sauce, here in Italy.  Even me.  Which reminds me, I must buy myself a mortar and pestle, as soon as I'm employed.

Tonight the balcony door is still open, it's so warm, and I'm thinking of staying up for the meteor shower.  I'm not sure.  I need to get myself into a rhythm now ... of working and walking in this beautiful city; that city once known as La Superba.

In Memory of Fulvio Currò

I captured Lino Marmorato in the image above.   A truly delightful subject for my camera, and a retired Genovese referee too. 

I was attending the 19° Trofeo Fulvio Currò, up in the mountains near Genova, in a place called Torriglia.  The football competition is an annual event, organised as a memorial to Fulvio, son, brother, and friend of those attending.

It felt like a privilege to be there.  And as I photographed the day unfolding, I realised the thing I most wanted to capture was the deep sense of friendship and affection on display.

It was a sweet afternoon of old friends greeting one another, with quite some mocking, and so much laughter.  And some football too.

And then came the evening, a dinner in Ostaia Becassa ... a place where my football team is honoured.  You get an idea of it here ... note the rossoblù mementos, Genoa mementos, all over the walls, in this clip not related to Fulvio's evening. 

I hadn't imagined such a place existed but it does The food was good, and the company ... even better.

Some more from the day ...

Golden Days ... Genova

My mornings begin slowly in this golden city in Italy. Morning after morning, I wake to soft blue skies and 30 celsius.  It's changing the pulse of my body ... of my mind. 

I am finding my feet but so slowly. 

Every time I move countries, I have to relocate everything.  The names of simple things change with the language.  Favourite places and people need to be discovered.  And I search for that new rhythm for my days ... for my life.

My holy moment, those breakfasts I love, have to be hunted and gathered again.  Reframed by what is available.  I haven't quite found 'breakfast' here ... not yet.

My skin is becoming brown, my feet have become accustomed to open leather sandals, and I wear that silky clothing I found in the secondhand shops in Surrey.  And I'm bemused because I've never been a silky clothing kind of woman.  But it's hot.  Really hot.

I have this idea now, that wearing clothes only happens because we have been civilised.  In Genova, the heat and humidity dictate that we only cover the skin that we must cover because any more coverage is just plain insane.

But the city and its colour... I began this wanting to try and describe the peachy, golden glow of the buildings here. 

In the past, I've always lived 'in' the city but this time is different, just for a while.  And as my bus rolls down the hill into the city, I see the glow of the buildings and begin to understand that colour is one of the things that has made me fall in me love this ancient place.

Even here, looking out from my borrowed balcony, the buildings are shades of pale yellow through into gold and terracotta.   And yes, then there's the blue sky, arching over it all ... every single day so far.

Life feels soft.  The air, the sea, the colours that surround me.  It's early days and I'm letting myself sink into them slowly.  Knowing I shouldn't but unable to help it.  To rush, to be stressed, to worry ... would be to waste it all.

I have half-constructed that precious breakfast.  There's a coffee machine here so I have my espresso.  Peaches are ripe and cheap at the moment ... they remind me of Christmas, long summer holidays, and home.  And there's cereal but this is definitely only an 'under-construction' kind of breakfast.  The search continues ...

My dinners are mostly about salad.  Paysanne Salade might loosely identify the mix of ingredients that find their way onto my plate.  Sweet lettuce and baby tomatoes,  and a little cooked bacon.  Sweet potatoes (New Zealand's kumara) cubed and lightly fried in some oil, with pieces bread falling into that pan too ... after the bacon.

I'm not sick of it yet.

I have so many stories of good people and marvelous adventures.  It's time to start telling them but first ... you understand, I had to mention the colour.

I Met This Man While At The Wedding In Norway ... this poet, this writer

We met after the wedding, as he photographed a particular gate there at the church.  He told me the story of the place where he and his wife were married, and how the gate reminded him of it.

I mentioned that he reminded me of someone. 

He suggested James Joyce. 

I said, 'Maybe', as I rummaged round in my memory for images of Joyce.

It turns out, everyone else said he was Elton John ... 20 years ago.  I didn't really look at Elton then but perhaps.  There is a story about a carriage full of people on the Tube, or a train, thinking precisely that about him.

You can decide.

But perhaps he is simply one of those people who allow you to feel like you've known him a long time, and you respond to that.

On the day after the wedding, I wandered over to his website, and found this poem.  I love it.

An extract, from Out of Shape Sonnet:

This is one of those tuneless songs of hope
A father scatters out into the universe
Because he wants the best for his child;
Independence,
Success of the non-material kind,
And, above all, happiness,
Happiness of the forever kind.

And then, Ren had a copy of his book, Bee Bones.  You can buy a signed copy over here.

I read enough, between processing the wedding photographs, to know I'll find my own copy now that I'm back in the UK.  I reached that point where the father and son have just begun their journey ...

His book, Dead Men, was nominated for the Guardian First Book Award.  It's another to hunt down, sooner or later.

A review:
Washington Independent Review of Books, 18 June 2012
Who said literary works tend to be boring? This debut novel by Richard Pierce proves a poetically written narrative can also be riveting and engrossing.
This is not a lengthy novel and the author uses every word, sentence and verbal image to craft and layer his themes. This is a love story, a historical novel, a polar expedition and a ghostly tale. From an initial improbability, page after page draws the reader in.  As the author’s first effort at full-length fiction, it is a notable success. I highly recommend this novel.

Arthur Kerns.

You can read more on his website.

I met this man, and his wife, at the wedding and they are, so very kindly, allowing me to use the photographs I took of them.  

Richard Pierce was born in Doncaster in 1960.
 
He was educated in Germany, and at the University of Cambridge.

He now lives in Suffolk with Marianne and their four children.

Richard is a novelist, poet and painter, and administers two charities

He has a Youtube channel, and an Amazon author's page too, if you would like to know more.